


Alone Together

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Possible Spoilers, Post-Predacons Rising, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of victory, Ratchet and Ultra Magnus mourn being left behind again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> For tf-rare-pairing's prompt ofTFP, Ratchet/Ultra Magnus, “I miss him, too” 
> 
> Contains some background Ratchet/Optimus/Ultra Magnus. If you squint.

Long into the orn, the colorful sparks fill the sky.   
  
Not unlike a fireworks show Ratchet had once witnessed on Earth, they brighten Cybertron's dark night cycle. They shimmer and shine, restoring hope to a planet once ravaged by war.   
  
Ratchet tries to smile, tries to let it lift the weight from his spark, but he can't seem to find the strength.   
  
It doesn't seem fair.   
  
Megatron lives.   
  
Optimus does not.   
  
No, it is not very fair at all.   
  
Ratchet canimagine what Optimus would have to say about it. That he is fortunate to have brought peace and life back to Cybertron. That it is all part of Primus' plan. That it is some form of atonement for being unable to convince Megatronus otherwise, all those vorns ago, and being unable to stop his friend sooner. A weakness, Ratchet had accused once and Optimus had not denied, though Ratchet wishes he could take those words back now.   
  
Optimus would have voiced so many reasons and excuses, all of them logical and all of them, to Ratchet, unacceptable.   
  
There is some muted celebration from his fellow Autobots. Grief hangs over them like a heavy cloud, but it is hard for the younger bots to cling to sorrow when they can see the results of Optimus' sacrifice. They have all served under Optimus faithfully, but they did not know him as Orion Pax. They have not known him for the entire course of the war.   
  
Not like Ratchet.   
  
And not like Ultra Magnus either.   
  
Hands rest on Ratchet's shoulders. Well, a hand on his right and a crude facsimile of one on his left. That, however, is not Magnus' fault. Ratchet had done his best and as always, it had not been good enough.   
  
“It does not seem fair, does it?” Ultra Magnus asks, close enough that the heat of his plating wafts against Ratchet's own.   
  
Ratchet's helm dips, unsurprised that Magnus' question echoes his own thoughts. They have always been like-minded, the practical pessimism to Optimus' pure-sparked optimism.   
  
“No,” Ratchet replies, and lifts a hand, laying it over Magnus' right. “I thought I lost him once. That was difficult enough.” He pauses, cycling a ventilation. “Primus is cruel.”   
  
“Yes, he can be.” Magnus' fingers flex beneath his own and the distance between them closes, Ratchet stepping back into the larger mech's embrace. “Optimus would not want us to mourn.”   
  
Ratchet huffs, free hand curling into a fist. “Then he shouldn't have left us,” he snaps, just short of a snarl. “How are we supposed to do this without him?”   
  
“One orn at a time.” Ultra Magnus tightens his grip on Ratchet's shoulder, field flowing with comfort and commiseration. He, too, is struggling, only he conceals it better. He had always been the calm to Ratchet's ire and Optimus' passion. That did not mean, however, that Magnus' feelings were any less deep or true.   
  
Ratchet draws in a shuddery ventilation. His spark aches as though struck a physical blow and there's a chill in his circuits that has nothing to do with Cybertron's ambient temperature.   
  
He offlines his optics, bowing his helm. It is a time like this that he envies the human's ability to grieve outwardly. Instead, it feels trapped inside his frame, an endless cycle that builds upon itself and is offered no relief.   
  
Ultra Magnus is silent, processing his grief with equal reserve.   
  
Ratchet can hear the other Autobots on the other side of the rise, talking amongst each other, sharing stories, passing around the high grade. They haven't really discussed what they are going to do next.   
  
Megatron lives, but is he a threat? Not even Ratchet believes so.   
  
Shockwave is out there somewhere. Perhaps even Starscream as well. The Decepticons will return to Cybertron and so will Autobots. Maybe the war will continue as Cybertron's people come home, maybe it won't. Maybe they can rebuild; maybe they'll lapse into the more familiar grounds of violence.   
  
Maybe it'll all be for naught.   
  
Ratchet doesn't have a clue. He only knows what Optimus believed in and died for, and if he could follow Optimus for thousands of vorns, through a war the Autobots were losing until the very end, he ought to be able to believe in Optimus now.   
  
He unclenches his fist, releasing his trapped ventilation.   
  
“I'm going to stay on Cybertron,” Ratchet says, onlining his optics and lifting his helm. “You'll need someone with some sense around here to help corral those younglings.”   
  
Ultra Magnus' frame hums with amusement and affection. “I welcome your presence, Ratchet. You were missed.”   
  
Ratchet works up a smile, though it is heavy. “I'm staying for _you_.”   
  
“I know.” Ultra Magnus' finger strokes a warm path across his plating, proving the invitation.   
  
“I never should have left,” Ratchet admits, not only because he had been missed, but because he should have been by Optimus' side as well. But then, he'd thought the war over and they had all the time in the universe.   
  
Sympathy flickers through Ultra Magnus' field, tempered with understanding. “We all make choices to the best of our ability.”   
  
“Which is your way of saying 'I told you so' only far more politely,” Ratchet retorts.   
  
“If you say so,” Ultra Magnus demurs, though there is now amusement in his field, his exploratory touches shifting more to caresses.   
  
Ratchet shakes his helm and leans back against the taller mech, for once willing to defer to Ultra Magnus without argument.   
  
The sparks continue to fall, though with less frequency now, more a twinkle in the sky than a continuous rain. Soon, they will only be a memory, albeit a good one. Cybertron will live again, and that is what is most important. At least, Ratchet thinks, that is what Optimus would have said.   
  
Ratchet sighs. He isn't ready to say goodbye.   
  
Fortunately, neither is Ultra Magnus.   
  
“Until the last spark falls?” Ultra Magnus mumurs, weight shifting and pistons hissing as he adjusts his balance.   
  
Ratchet's fingers squeeze Ultra Magnus' hand. “Until then,” he agrees, and lifts his optics back to the sky.   
  
One orn at a time. It is all they can do.   
  


***


End file.
